


Fairytale Endings

by cnell



Series: Turning Page Productions [8]
Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 14:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cnell/pseuds/cnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bing and Jane are engaged - and Lizzie, visiting New York City on a business trip, can't avoid the question for much longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [lulabo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lulabo/pseuds/lulabo) for the beta read and [thedovenest](http://thedovenest.tumblr.com/) for the Médecins Sans Frontières idea.

_July 2015_

 

As much as she hated stress-induced nightmares, Lizzie had to appreciate the way her brain went straight for the classics. She was back in high school, realizing she’d forgotten to study for a math test. She was in the middle of a crowded sidewalk and glanced down to discover she was naked. Her teeth were falling out.

Or, her current favorite: she was standing behind a spotlit podium, wearing a tight gown that didn’t belong to her, while a vast crowd of rich men in suits waited for her to give a speech – but her notes had vanished and her mind was blank.

Just as a wave of mocking laughter swept down the auditorium toward her, she woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. For a second her panic spiked higher as she found herself alone, cramped and uncomfortable, staring at the walls of a strange room. Then she groaned and flopped back into the pillows.

Lizzie was in New York City. She had fallen asleep in her clothes, the bedside lamp still on and now glowing weakly in the pre-dawn light from the window. The mattress was littered with clippings and print-outs and her laptop was blinking patiently beside her.

She sat up, shaking her hair loose from its messy ponytail, and picked up the article she’d been reading when she nodded off: a six-page business feature from a 2004 edition of _Vanity Fair_. She stared at it blankly for a moment, then grabbed her phone from the nightstand and pulled up Twitter. “Do you ever get used to waking up in random hotel rooms?” she typed.

Not half a minute later, the phone rang. Lizzie rolled her eyes as she answered, even though she’d been secretly hoping for this the whole time. “William.”

“To answer your question,” Darcy said, “no, one does not.”

“It’s one in the morning over there. At least tell me you’re not still at the office.” Guilty silence on the end of the line. She sighed. “You’re going to nod off in a conference room at this rate.”

“I doubt you’re in a position to criticize, Lizzie.” She could picture him perfectly as he said it, slouched and disheveled at his desk, a posture he only adopted when no-one was watching – no-one but her. “Unless you can claim to have not worked past midnight yourself.”

She could not. “Fine. We’ll be an overachieving zombie duo.” She shoved her laptop aside, rolled off the bed and walked stiffly to the window, which gave her a view of the rooftop ventilation units across the street. The growl of Midtown’s morning traffic was well underway ten stories below. “Just be glad you don’t have to deal with my mother and her relentless wedding ideas on top of everything else.”

“Yes,” he said absently, then yawned and stretched. “There is that.”

 

* * *

 

Two weeks ago, it finally happened. It took years of waiting and many serious talks about the future, but in the end they decided it was meant to be.

Jane and Bing were engaged. They had gone to Central Park on a warm summer evening to attend the New York Philharmonic concert, equipped with a picnic basket, candles and wine; and as the music ended and fireworks bloomed in the night sky above the trees, he proposed and she said yes. It was ridiculously perfect.

The news was barely twelve hours old when Mrs. Bennet called Lizzie at work. “We must go to Manhattan at once,” she said breathlessly. “There’s a weddin’ to plan and hardly a moment to lose.”

Lizzie shot a long-suffering look at her assistant. “You pulled me out of a meeting to talk about the wedding? Mom, you said it was an emergency.”

“It is an emergency, dear! If my precious Jane does not have the most beautiful ceremony any of our friends and neighbors have ever seen, I’ll never be able to show my face again.”

It was no use explaining that wedding preparations were at least another year away. Jane was working toward a promotion and frantically busy preparing for Fashion Week in September; and as for Bing, the next eight months would see him travelling halfway around the world for weeks at a time. Thanks to his medical training, his charity work experience and a few well-placed contacts, he had landed a job at Médecins Sans Frontières earlier in the year. The work suited him so well, he’d already been assigned to a team setting up tuberculosis testing centers in Cambodia. He and Jane would barely have time to see each other, much less think about venues and guest lists.

But Lizzie had not followed her mother to New York just to rein her in. It so happened that MSF were working on a television documentary about the Cambodia mission, and they needed an innovative way to promote it online. Seeing her chance, Lizzie had called them last week and suggested a series of short, vlog-style web videos featuring different people involved in the project – doctors, patients, charity workers – as a teaser for the official air date in the spring.

Bing’s Internet fame from Lizzie’s video blog made him an obvious choice for one of the videos. Even better, Jane’s fashion house regularly developed charity clothing lines that benefited organizations like MSF. With a little strategic maneuvering, Lizzie might be able to get Jane on camera as well.

Last night, as Bing, Jane, Lizzie and Mrs. Bennet went out for Italian food in the West Village, Lizzie explained her idea. “It’s a great story,” she said, scrawling notes on a cocktail napkin. “We can use your romance as a sub-plot tying the different efforts together, and it’ll attract a lot of my viewers to the project. That is,” she added with a sheepish smile at Bing, “if you don’t mind me putting your love life on the Internet again.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders – her third hug that evening. He had always been affectionate, but now he seemed determined to make up for all the years Lizzie had gone without a brother. “This is a really important cause. I’ll do anything I can to help.”

“Anything, huh? You know, the viewers consider shirtless guys a real attention grabber…”

He laughed, jostling her. “Okay, I’ll do _almost_ anything.”

Jane was glowing with excitement, which made her look lovelier than ever. Her ring sparkled as she reached for Bing’s hand across the table. “Wait until we show you the pictures from Phnom Penh. It’s so beautiful. We’re thinking of spending our honeymoon there, maybe doing some volunteer work.”

“Oh, you _would_ ,” Lizzie teased. “You’re both so generous, you’ll probably give away all your money by the end of the trip.”

Mrs. Bennet scoffed. “Lizzie dear, why are you talkin’ such nonsense?” She beamed triumphantly at her future son-in-law and waved a forkful of gnocchi at the elegant, pricey restaurant. “Give away all their money – there’s hardly any danger of that! Now Bing, wouldn’t you just love to hold the reception at the Four Seasons? Isn’t it absolutely charming!”

Lizzie downed half her wine glass in one gulp.

“How come _you_ get to skip Engagemageddon 2015?” she complained to Lydia on the phone that night. “This isn’t fair.”

“Haaaa, sucker,” said Lydia gleefully. “Call me when it’s time to plan the bachelorette party. It’s technically your job, but we all know your ideas will be total snoresville.”

“Gee, thanks. What are you gonna do, hire a stripper?”

“I am shocked you would even suggest such a childish idea. So anyways, I know this awesome candy store where you can get chocolates shaped like pe—”

“OKAY GOTTA GO BYE.”


	2. Chapter 2

Lizzie had never been to Manhattan before. It felt huge and rough-edged compared to San Francisco, like a city built by giants. It was impressive. It was also sweltering. At 8:45 AM, the air conditioning in the hotel dining room was already on full blast. Just the thought of going out into the heat gave Lizzie a headache.

So she couldn’t help but feel annoyed when Caroline came breezing through the front door in a crisp linen dress, hair and makeup immaculate. She gave the hotel a dubious look as she sat down and put her iPad and portfolio on the table. “A Garden Inn, Lizzie, really?”

“You’re right, sorry. I’ll go check in at the Plaza immediately.”

“Be sure to try the sushi bar,” Caroline returned smoothly. She skimmed through the columns of Turning Page Productions’ quarterly budget, smiling to herself, before handing it to Lizzie to sign off. “Well, I can’t complain. Your enterprise has made impressive progress this year, if I do say so myself.”

“Yeah,” said Lizzie, signing her name with a flourish, “Lydia really gave our ad revenues a boost over the summer. Thank goodness for her, right?”

Caroline arched an eyebrow. A bit vindictive, maybe, but Lizzie couldn’t resist needling her. Far from “an embarrassment,” her unpredictable little sister had become one of the most valuable assets the company had.

“Be that as it may,” Caroline said, turning on her iPad with a decisive flick of the wrist, “I certainly hope you came prepared this week. You’ll be in talks with Médecins Sans Frontières for most of today and tomorrow, followed by our meeting with the venture capital firm on Fifth Avenue – I won’t even _mention_ how many strings I had to pull for that one. From then on I assume you’ll be swamped with preparations for your pitch to the television executives on Friday.”

She gave Lizzie a stern once-over. “You realize, of course, that the success of this collaboration will be crucial to the future growth of your company. Please have Jane find you something suitable to wear – none of your little Anthropologie ensembles this time.”

“Okay, just … slow down for a second,” Lizzie said, massaging her temples. “I’m freaked out enough as it is.”

Smirking, Caroline tapped at her iPad and turned it around to display an article from a women’s magazine. “That’s not a very positive attitude coming from ‘California’s YouTube Princess.’”

Lizzie flailed back in her chair. “Bleeaghh, get it _away_ from me!”

“Oh, honestly.” Caroline feigned innocence as she glanced at the lead photograph. “I can’t understand why you of all people would have such an aversion to this … admittedly heavily Photoshopped picture of yourself.”

“It looks nothing like me! What the hell is my nose even doing!”

Caroline tilted her head, a wry remark on her lips, when something caused her impassive mask to fall into place. Lizzie looked behind her and saw her mother standing several yards away, arms crossed, pointedly refusing to look in their direction.

“I suppose that’s my cue to leave,” said Caroline. She gathered her things, stood up and tossed her hair over her shoulder in one fluid motion. “You ladies have fun. I will meet you at the reception desk at ten o’clock on Thursday.” Lizzie watched her long, stilettoed stride across the lobby and out the door.

By the time she turned back to the table, Mrs. Bennet was settling herself into the chair Caroline had left. “I declare, Lizzie,” she sniffed, patting down her red-colored ringlets and straightening her pearls, “I don’t know how you can stand to work with such a sly, deceitful woman. Well, I suppose we must be tolerant. It couldn’t have been easy for her, you know – bein’ a girl in _that culture_.”

“Mom!” Lizzie half-whispered, horrified.

“Why, it’s tragic, dear! Your father and I watched _Memoirs of a Geisha_ the other day, it just about broke my heart.”

It was a good five seconds before Lizzie’s voice came back. “Oh my god, did y—  Mom, the Lee family is Chi—   _So hey_ , what did you have to show me this morning because I am _super busy_.”

Mrs. Bennet rummaged through her oversized handbag and pulled out one of several textbook-sized, dog-eared wedding catalogs, this one devoted to the bridal party. Lizzie suppressed a groan as she saw where this was going. “You do remember that Jane works in fashion, right? I’m sure she has plenty of amazing ideas already.”

But her mother waved that aside. Darcy was the best man, Lizzie was the maid of honor, and Mrs. Bennet was not about to let this opportunity slip through her fingers. She flipped through the thick perfumed pages to a picture of a smoldering groomsman and his sultry bridesmaid, who were standing in a wheat field for some reason.

“Imagine it, Lizzie! A three-piece charcoal pinstripe Windsor suit with a white French cuff shirt, striped cravat and orchid boutonniere. Isn’t it perfect? You and that man of yours would look _divine_ walkin’ down the aisle together.” She sighed in ecstasy, then gave her daughter a meaningful look. “I only hope this blessed occasion will convince the two of you to stop wastin’ precious time.”

Lizzie dropped her arm to the table with enough force to rattle the silverware. “Wasting time? That’s what you think I’m doing?”

“Well, you’re certainly not gettin’ any younger, my dear.”

“Okay, Mother?” She leaned forward, clasping her hands in front of her. “I run a company. I’m paying the salaries of seventeen people. Did you know I’m getting a student intern in a few weeks? I’m actually mentoring someone, can you believe it? I might be interviewing Suzanne Collins next month, why don’t we talk about that?”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, calm yourself.” Mrs. Bennet closed the catalog and nudged it across the table. “It’s just somethin’ for you to think about.”

Lizzie gave up and stuffed the catalog into her satchel. “Sure. I’ll just add this to the five others you want me to look at.”


	3. Chapter 3

The wedding catalog was still in Lizzie’s bag after her hours-long meeting with Médecins Sans Frontières the next day. She’d shoved the _Vanity Fair_ article and a few more of her print-outs between the pages that morning – all her aggravating reading material in one convenient place. Now she scowled at it as she sat on the steps of the New York Public Library, talking to Darcy on the phone.

“You’d tell me if I was making a horrible reckless mistake that could end my career, right?” She shifted to pluck the fabric of her skirt away from her sweaty skin; the pavement was still warm even in the shade.

“I would, if such a scenario were remotely plausible,” Darcy said. It was his lunch hour, meaning he was giving himself ten minutes to drink coffee and look out the window. “How has your proposal been received so far? Bing tells me you threatened to steal his shirt.”

“I was _kidding_. And how do you already know that? Do you guys have boy talk on the phone every night or something?”

“He and I have much to discuss.”

The odd formality of his reply told Lizzie she had strayed into awkward territory. She quickly changed the subject. “Things are going fine, I guess. MSF seemed pretty interested. I’m just having second thoughts about it. What if this romance storyline ends up taking attention away from the people who need help?”

“Don’t worry. You are more than capable of striking the right balance.”

“Easy for you to say. If I screw this up I’ll have hordes of social justice bloggers beating my door down.” Lizzie watched a group of tired grad students walk down the library steps. One of them said he wanted pizza. “What are you up to this week, anyway?”

Darcy gave a dreary sigh. “We are negotiating with an accounting firm to adapt Domino as a video conferencing platform for their offices. If I should die of boredom while you’re gone, Lizzie, please remember me kindly.”

“Poor darling,” she laughed. “That would get you out of dinner with Catherine, at least.”

“Yes, a perfect end to a perfect week. I’m told I can expect another dose of … shall we say _forthright_ business advice from Marissa Mayer.”

“Wait, _the_ Marissa Mayer? You’re just casually hanging out with the CEO of Yahoo?”

“Something of a family obligation,” he said, nonchalant. “My mother made her acquaintance during her early years at Google.”

“Of course she did.” The wedding catalog caught Lizzie’s eye again. She nudged the satchel closed with her foot.

“Marissa is an impressive businesswoman, certainly. I should introduce you to her.”

“That’s okay,” she said. She dug her fingers into the tension at the back of her neck. “I think we want to keep the chances of me spilling beverages on high-powered executives as low as possible.”

 

* * *

 

Jane nudged Lizzie’s arm away from her body, then carefully slid a pin into the side seam dart of her dress. “This really suits you,” she said.

“The mannequin wore it better.” Lizzie gave herself a skeptical look in the mirror. After hours of rummaging through designer boutiques, Jane had convinced her to buy a black crepe jersey dress by Donna Karan. It was the first time Lizzie had been able to afford anything so expensive. She smoothed the skirt with her hands, frowning at the sight of her chipped nail polish against the sleek fabric.

“There, all done. I’ll tailor it tonight and have it sent to your hotel in the morning.” Jane looked her over with a satisfied nod and crossed to her work bench, pulling the pincushion off her wrist.

Lizzie took a moment to watch her sister – the deft movements of her hands, the subtle style of her thin sleeveless blouse. She wouldn’t have expected sweet, sunny Jane to fit in so well in New York, but she did. She looked completely in her element.

Jane touched her braided hair in a nervous gesture as she tidied the bench. She and Bing were throwing a rooftop dinner party at his apartment in Chelsea tomorrow night, a couple of hours after Lizzie’s meeting with the television producers, and there was still so much to do.

“It’s probably the last chance we’ll get to see all our friends before Bing goes away. He won’t be back until the middle of August, and by then work will be…” She laughed breathlessly and sat down, brushing her fingers across her brow. “It’s a little overwhelming.”

“But you’re happy, right?” Lizzie stepped down from the dais and sat next to her.

A shy, radiant smile bloomed over Jane’s face. “Oh Lizzie, sometimes I’m so happy I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“Aww.” Lizzie cuddled against her shoulder. “No-one in the world deserves it more than you.”

“Now,” Jane said, resting her cheek on the top of Lizzie’s head, “if only I could see you as happy.”

For a moment, Lizzie was glad that Jane couldn’t see her face. She tried to laugh it off. “Why is everyone assuming William and I are going to get married just because you are?”

“I think it’s more to do with the fact that you’ve been with him for over two years and living with him for the last six months. Is that still going okay?”

“Yeah! We’re good.” Lizzie stood up and ducked behind a screen to take off the dress. “I’m all settled in and we’ve finally got the sharing expenses thing worked out. Kind of. Mostly. Everything’s great, so why should we be in a hurry to change it?” She re-emerged in her shorts and tee shirt, hung up the dress and smiled brightly at her sister. “Besides, this is the 21st century. I’m a strong, independent woman, remember?”

Jane watched the whole performance with a patient expression. “Yes, but you wouldn’t be any less strong or independent for wanting to share the rest of your life with someone. Is that what you want?”

Lizzie didn’t know what to say. She glanced at her satchel before she could stop herself, looking with despair at that stupid bridal magazine and the even stupider article print-outs she’d been studying for weeks.

Her big sister noticed immediately. “If all this wedding talk bothers you so much, why do you keep reading Mom’s catalogs all the time?”

“Oh,” Lizzie laughed awkwardly. She shoved the satchel out of sight as she sat down again. “It’s a decoy. Like when street evangelists are handing out pamphlets and you take one and carry it around until they leave you alone.”

“Street evangelists, really?” Jane took her hand. “Lizzie. Something else is bugging you.”

Lizzie focused on their hands clasped together, and the unfamiliar feeling of Jane’s ring pressed against her skin. She took a breath, then another – but before she could get the words out, Jane’s phone chimed and they both jumped.

“That’s Bing.” Jane frowned slightly as she read the text message. “He and Mom want to know when we’ll be back.” She tugged at Lizzie’s hand. “It’s okay, we can still talk. I’ll just tell them we’ll be a bit late…”

“No, it’s all right. We’ve been out longer than I planned – we’d better not keep them waiting.” Lizzie smiled, squeezed her fingers and let go. “I’m just a bit tired, that’s all. Thanks so much for helping me with the dress.”


	4. Chapter 4

Friday afternoon, the oppressive heat wave that had gripped New York for more than a week ended in a thunderstorm. Dark rumbling clouds piled up over the skyscrapers, until finally a downpour sliced through the heavy air and drenched the city, steaming on the hot pavement.

Lizzie listened to the rain as she paced through the echoing lobby of the television production company on Sixth Avenue. A shame about Jane’s dinner party, she thought. They would have to move everything inside; it would be crowded. Fortunately Lizzie had managed to hail a cab before the storm broke, sparing her any damage to her new dress and professionally-styled hair. Glancing out the window, she saw her reflection in the glass and barely recognized herself.

She fumbled in her purse for her phone and checked the time. Then impulse grabbed her and she speed-dialed Darcy’s number. He answered after the fourth ring.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m sorry, I know you’re busy.”

“I’m not too busy for you.” She could hear the cheerful bustle of Pemberley’s corridors behind him. “You’re pitching to the television producers this afternoon, correct?”

“In fifteen minutes. Would you mind telling me one more time that I’m brilliant and amazing and not about to completely embarrass myself?”

There was a pause as he collected his thoughts. “You’re Lizzie Bennet,” he said at last. “They would be fools to let you get away.”

The absolute conviction in his voice made her heart skip, with love or alarm or both. “I miss you,” she said.

“I miss you, too.”

 

* * *

 

The worst of the storm was over by the time Lizzie’s cab dropped her off in Chelsea. She was jittery with adrenaline as she ducked inside Bing’s apartment building, still dressed in her business clothes.

The meeting had gone well – at least, she thought it had. She’d listened with surprise to her own bright, polished words, and the over-the-top enthusiasm of the television producers. She had no idea if they were sincere or not; it would be weeks before she knew for sure.

She exhaled slowly as she waited for Bing to buzz her up. They only had an hour to finish reorganizing the party before the guests started arriving. Less than that, actually – Mrs. Bennet was sure to show up early and try to take charge of the whole thing. It was going to be a long night.

But when Lizzie stepped into Bing’s living room, the scene in front of her was strangely quiet. Jane and Bing were sitting close together on the sofa, the dining room only partially set up behind them. He was staring at a sheaf of papers in his hands, while she brushed her fingers rhythmically across his forearm. Caroline stood facing them, leaning against the sideboard, nursing a drink. They looked as if they hadn’t said a word for some time.

Jane brightened a little as her sister walked in. “You look great, Lizzie. How was your meeting?”

“Fine.” Lizzie looked at Caroline. “What’s the paperwork for?”

Caroline stood a bit straighter and kept her eyes on her glass. “It’s an information packet from our family lawyer, on drafting a prenuptial agreement.”

“Lovely.” Lizzie set her purse on a chair and crossed her arms. She was grateful for the added height of her uncomfortable shoes. “Sorry, I guess I was hoping to throw my sister an engagement party before the lawyers got involved.”

For once, Caroline did not accept the challenge. “Please put your claws away,” she said wearily. “Believe it or not, this wasn’t my idea.”

Bing roused himself with an effort, rubbing his forehead. “My parents say I’ll lose my inheritance if Jane and I don’t sign.”

“It’s all so … unoriginal.” Caroline swallowed a mouthful of gin, her lips curling, then turned a bitter smile toward Lizzie. “They were a delightful couple, you know. Charming, sophisticated, madly in love with each other.  Everyone thought so, until their vicious $50 million divorce battle hit the gossip pages.”

“I promised myself I’d never let this stuff hang over my head.” Bing grimaced and dropped the papers onto the coffee table. It was the closest Lizzie had ever seen him to being angry. “No matter what, I’ve always tried to think the best of people.”

“I know, Bing,” said Caroline. “You have a string of personal betrayals to prove it.”

“That’s not all I have.” The look he gave his sister was firm and compassionate all at once. “I know you thought you were protecting me.”

“For all the good it did.” Caroline took longer than necessary to drain her glass and set it aside, then faced Jane with her head high. “If I did not make it clear before, I regret the way I treated you, and my excessive reaction to the schemes of your mother and youngest sister. Though I must say, Elizabeth,” she added with grim amusement, “I’m not quite the evil mastermind your viewers think I am.”

All the fight had drained out of Lizzie. She wanted desperately to go home. “I don’t get it, Caroline. You knew I was going to show them everything. If I was being unfair to you, why didn’t you say anything?”

“What did it matter?” Caroline shrugged. “At the time, it seemed best for everyone if I cut my ties and left. You’re a fairy tale, you Bennet girls. Every fairy tale needs a villain.”

“You were wrong about that,” said Jane. “We’re family. We don’t give up on each other.”

Something in Caroline faltered for just a moment as she looked at the two of them sitting hand-in-hand, their faces quiet and determined. “I hope this lasts,” she said. “I really do.” She shook herself and plucked the paperwork from the table. “Let me deal with our parents, Bing. I promise you, whatever that’s worth, the agreement will be fair to you both.”

She gave Lizzie a businesslike nod as she walked past. “In the meantime, we have a dinner party to salvage.”


	5. Chapter 5

There was never a chance to really talk to anyone for the rest of Lizzie’s time in New York. The party was a jumble of knocked elbows and awkward smiles, and they were too busy with the guests to do more than exchange a few glances. (Mrs. Bennet enjoyed herself immensely the whole night, sipping Chablis and introducing herself to everyone as “the mother of the bride.”)

Saturday morning was filled with last minute emails and phone calls, and then Lizzie had to check out of the hotel and get her mother to the airport. Bing and Jane went with them in his town car to see them off.

“Oh, my darlings, I’m so happy!” Mrs. Bennet cried as she wrapped them both in hugs. “You see, I knew how it would be. Love always triumphs in the end.”

Lizzie held her sister tightly for a long moment, blinking back tears. “Call me as soon as you can,” Jane whispered.

The flight to San Francisco was tedious but also a relief – six hours to herself, seated next to a random businessman who passed her her ginger ale and left her alone. She read a Henry James novel, ate her meal of rubbery chicken and dozed off, and when she woke up the velvety green hills of California were glowing in the sunset below.

Darcy was waiting for her just outside the boarding area. His face lit up when he saw her. Lizzie walked straight into him, wrapped her arms around his torso and squeezed her eyes shut. His embrace nearly lifted her feet off the floor.

“I’m afraid we have to let go if we hope to reach the car.”

“I know, that _sucks_.”

She leaned against him at the baggage claim and kept hold of his hand on the drive home. It felt good to remember the everydayness of this, how comfortable they were together. The city rolled by outside the windows in shades of blue and gold, strings of lights nestled against the hillsides and the shores of the Bay.

Their apartment seemed oddly dark and peaceful to Lizzie, as it always did after she travelled for more than a few days. She kicked off her shoes as she stepped out of the elevator, curling her toes in the plush rug. Darcy followed her inside, and as he set down her suitcase he asked some offhand question she only half heard, about the latest news from Bing and Jane.

She wasn’t exactly sure what happened after that. One moment she was putting her carry-on bag on the counter and the next her arms were straining against his shoulders and she was kissing him as if her life depended on it.

“Lizzie,” he managed a few minutes later. He was stunned, eyes closed, hands trailing down the curves of her back. “Are you tired, do you need to…”

“No,” she said, “stop talking.”

The carry-on bag fell to the floor.

“You’re not allowed to be away for that long,” he mumbled against her neck some time later. “There should be an ordinance or something.”

“Fine with me.” She snuggled deeper beneath the comforter. Sinking fast, heavy and warm with sleep, she was barely aware of what she was saying.

His fingertips stroked lightly up and down her arm. “By the way,” he said, “would you happen to know why we have a twelve month subscription to _Bride and Groom Magazine_?”

“Ugh, _Mom,_ ” she groaned, and tried to pull the pillow over her head. “I never want to hear the word ‘wedding’ again.”

Darcy’s hand grew still, then closed gently around her elbow. “Never?”

Lizzie was starkly, hopelessly awake.

“Um,” she said. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. “William, I… Can we pretend I didn’t say that?”

Whatever he’d been expecting, the note of panic in her voice wasn’t it. “Perhaps we should talk about this, Lizzie.”

“I just… It’s not you.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “ _Oh my god_ , I didn’t say that either!”

But she had said it, and Darcy flinched as if she’d struck him. He drew away from her and turned onto his back. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I did not mean to upset you.”

“William, _don’t_.” She squirmed after him, grabbing his arm with both hands, burying her face in his shoulder. “I love you. Okay? I can handle this. I’m not going to screw it up.”

Suddenly her voice quavered and she was seconds away from bursting into tears. Darcy raised himself on one elbow to lean over her, worried and exasperated and utterly confused. “What’s wrong? Tell me.” When she couldn’t answer he tried again, changing tack. “I know your mother’s enthusiasm on the subject is difficult for you...”

“It’s not just her, it’s _everyone_.” The force of her own voice startled her. “I know how people see the Darcy family, you’re like the freaking _Kennedys_ or something – where do I fit in to all of that? It’s like I have to be your perfect happy ending and everyone’s staring at me, waiting for me to fail. I mean, god, I can’t even promote my own company without feeling like a total fake and now people are expecting me to host charity galas and curate museums and I don’t know the _first thing_ about abstract expressionism…”

“Abstract…! Lizzie, come here.” Darcy pulled her close and tucked her head beneath his chin. He was quiet for a long time, brushing his fingers through her hair. Then, in a relieved voice that betrayed not the slightest hint of amusement, he said, “Sweetheart, what on earth have you been reading?”

“I was doing the research,” came her muffled reply.

“Oh, please don’t do that. The press coverage of my family is enough to drive anyone mad.”

Lizzie gave him a petulant shove before burrowing into his arms again. “See, this is what I mean. How am I supposed to know that? No-one ever tells me these things.”

His chest rose and fell in a resigned sigh. “If I revealed something to you, would you promise not to discuss it with your sisters?”

She peeked up at him. “Um, sure?”

“During my first year at Pemberley Digital, an entertainment magazine became convinced that I was to be a star contestant on Donald Trump’s _The Apprentice_.”

Lizzie bolted upright. “What!”

“True, I’m afraid. Fitz printed three hundred copies and papered my office with it.”

She collapsed on top of him and laughed until her sides hurt. Darcy patted her on the back. “I beg your pardon,” he said, when she showed little sign of calming down, “are you implying that I would have been fired? Lizzie, you wound me.”

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “No, okay, it’s not that funny. God, I’m so tired.”

He couldn’t help laughing himself, a warm sound that vibrated through her and scattered the last of her panic. Her worries had retreated to a proper distance, like a dream she’d woken up from – not gone, but manageable.

“My parents would have been honored to know you.” He shifted to meet her eyes in the dark, the merriment in his voice giving way to something tender and wistful. “They would have loved you as much as I do, I’m sure of it. Nothing else matters to me.” He hesitated, twining his fingers through hers. “I do have hopes for us, someday. I would never presume to speak before you are ready, but if there’s any chance...”

“There’s a chance,” she said softly. “I just need to figure this out.”

He kissed her forehead. They said nothing else for a while.

Lizzie could feel sleep pulling at her, insistent this time, as the stress of the last six days caught up with her. Just as her eyes were closing, Darcy gave her hand an apologetic squeeze. “There’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Hmm?”

“I have to spend two weeks in London at the end of September,” he said, and she felt a pang at the thought of more long-distance phone calls. “I owe a visit to a business associate there, an old family friend who has expressed a desire to meet you. I was hoping... It would mean a great deal if you could come with me.”

“Oh.” Surprise lifted through her, along with a strange urgent feeling she couldn’t quite place; but she was too drowsy to chase after it now. “Thank you. Let me think about it.”

 

* * *

 

Lizzie was already up when Darcy woke the next morning. He walked into the bright kitchen, pulling a tee shirt over his head, and found her sitting at the table, comfortable and pretty in an old sundress, talking on the phone with Jane. She motioned that she was almost done and pointed at the fresh coffee on the counter.

The call was over by the time he filled his mug and came back. He leaned over to kiss her bare shoulder. “All is well with your sister, I hope?”

“Just clearing up a few things.” She busied herself with the orange slices on her plate. “Don’t worry, Mr. Reality TV, your secret is safe with me.”

“That’s comforting, thank you.” Out of habit he glanced at his calendar lying open on the table, then set down his coffee with a short laugh. Lizzie had written “THERE’S A CHANCE” across the top of the previous day’s page, followed by a big smiley face.

She was smirking at him. “I totally beat you to it, didn’t I.”

“You know me too well.”

Lizzie got up, crossed over to Darcy and looped her arms around his neck. “I think London sounds like a great idea.” She smiled, a little nervous, but steady. “I’ll make some arrangements and we can compare notes later in the week. All right?”

“All right,” he said.


End file.
